


Hawkward Situations

by Stargirl4Ever



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Clint being a dork, F/M, Fluff, Fraction Aja and Hollingsworth's Hawkeye, Purple Underwear, Reader-Insert, immature jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargirl4Ever/pseuds/Stargirl4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some late-night crime fighting with Hawkeye, he offers to make you a sandwich back at his place. You call out Clint's offer, suggesting that it's open to interpretation, and much to his embarrassment... it's true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkward Situations

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the beautiful and amazing comic series, Hawkeye, by Matt Fraction and David Aja, though it could easily apply to the MCU Hawkeye. It's hard not to love Clint, especially in the comic-verse. A cutesy reader-insert one-shot. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, if you ever want a cute short one-shot like this, please send me your requests! I'd be very happy to write them! <3

“Well, that was hawkward.” You announced loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You cheekily glanced over at Clint, who only just looked back at you incredulously. It was clear that he was trying to keep his eyes above your collar.

“ _Hawkward_?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s got to be the worst one I’ve heard so far.” He said smugly, a smile breaking across his scruffy face. One of the many tiny cuts on his cheek was bleeding, and you reached up to gently wipe it away.

Clint had called for your help at the last minute to deal with something he’d been working on: pursuing a man who’d been kidnapping pets in the locality for some time now. Those sort of things just didn’t fly with Clint in the slightest, being the self-appointed protector of the people in his neighborhood, and of course you’d jumped right on board.

By needing you at the last minute, he meant it literally... in the middle of the night after a lead he’d found. And you’d had no time to change from your pajamas, your pajamas consisting of nothing more than a pair of purple boyshorts and a black t-shirt that was way too small for you, your bow over your shoulder and a pair of Converse shoes.

After three avoided gunshots, a broken glass coffee table, an arrow fired into the hand of the creep pet stealer from you, cops showing up and arresting the creep pet-stealer for theft and inhumane treatment, and animal control coming to relocate the pets, it was finally safe to leave the building.

Clint put his bow over his shoulder like you had, the danger having now passed. Truth is, he’d really admired you after his “pet operation”, as he called it. You’d seriously kicked some ass.

“You want me to make a sandwich for you?...Like back at my place?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.

“That sounded an awful lot like a declaration of love, Mr. Barton.” You said slyly, joking like you usually did. Clint let out a small laugh, and you at first considered it a dismissal of your comment.

That is, until he said, “Um, maybe it is?” He looked at the ground, and then into your eyes.

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not just asking for post-adrenaline sex, are you?” You asked playfully, trying your hardest to not blush and deliver the joke without missing a beat.

“ _Sex_?” He said, his voice cracking a little as he spoke, making him clear his throat. For a grown man who’d been with plenty of women, he still acted like a high schooler.

“It’s the purple undies, isn’t it?” You said, pursing your lips in a smirk and turning around to look at your bottom and make him flustered. The truth was that you’d incorporated a lot more of the color into your wardrobe since you’d started being Clint’s friend and working with him on Team Hawkeye.

Clint rubbed his eyes. “__________...” He said your name in both a tired and sheepish tone. He was wearing a purple hoodie and gray sweatpants, and he  _did_  like matching you. And looking at you in the color, for that matter.

“ _Hawkward_.” You said again, smiling.

“Aw no. Shut up, stupid.” He said with a smile, insulting you with much affection, putting an arm over your shoulder and walking out of the wrecked room.

You looked up at his blue eyes, taking in his handsome face with stubble and short, unkempt light-blond hair. “I’ll take that sandwich though.”

“Awesome.” Clint’s bright blue eyes once again looked embarrassed. “I mean, yeah. That’d be great...” He said, correcting his obvious enthusiasm.

"Dummy." You said, calling him out and making Clint pull you closer to his side. You noticed that his own purple boxers were visible above his pants.

You sniggered quietly at this, and left with him to his perpetually messy apartment. You’d have to go on late-night missions with him more often.


End file.
